


Swimmers Are The Best Kissers

by JtotheR



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, First Time, High School, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-19
Updated: 2013-05-23
Packaged: 2017-12-12 08:46:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/809643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JtotheR/pseuds/JtotheR
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester is star of the swim team of Lawrence High. At a party he meets Castiel, the new kid in town with crazy blue eyes and a fantastic smile. Only a few months away from the enormous and super-important national competition his dad has trained him for for years, Dean finds his feelings for Castiel and their relationship become a priority. This fic is fluffy, angsty, smutty and features pools and skinny dipping.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there. This is my first fic for this pairing, but this idea popped into my head and wouldn't leave. Because I know next to nothing about the american high school system, everyone in the show now has something to do with swimming, something I DO know about. Feedback would be MUCH appreciated. Enjoy!  
> Thanks so much to the fantastic LVarbanova for sitting through my crazy and helping me out!

Chapter 1

Water was rushing past him, breaking around his body and flowing past, parting beneath his powerful strokes and being thrown into waves and eddies when he kicked his legs with practiced ease.

1-stroke-2-stroke-3-stroke-4-stroke-5-stroke-6-stroke-7-stroke-8-/Breathe/ 

Dean had this down to an art. Every movement was precise, swift, no wasted motion. His body had this rhythm, this series of movements, different muscles flexing and contracting, so memorized that this came as naturally to him as breathing and having his heart beat at the same time. The pool was thrown into an eerie twilight, with only the cheap sodium laps covered with dirty plastic still on. The pool floor was a dull light blue, with darker lines running down the length of it, to mark the laps. Dean was the last swimmer left in the pool. He had been late again (by no fault of his own, might he add, his stupid French teacher had just insisted on lecturing him about the importance of learning to conjugate his verbs for flat out 20 minutes) and coach had told him he would get to swim triple of what he missed to make up for it. No, not coach- dad.

1-stroke-2-stroke-3-stroke-4-stroke-5-stroke-6-stroke-7-stroke-8-/Breathe/ 

Sometimes it was hard to make the distinction with his father being so rigorous and strict at the poolside, barking orders and shaking his head in frustration and anger, and so kind and patient at home where he let Mary muss about with his hair and Sammy bound up and down in the hallway to tell him about his A on a math test. Recently, that line had been thinning though. The closer they came to the big, the huge, the gigantic and massively important nation-wide high school swim meet no one cared about except the people who were involved in it, the coach side of his dad seemed to be winning under the pressure of it all and forcing the dad side into submissiveness. After all, this was the first year they had beaten all the other high schools in Kansas with high profile swim teams and gotten themselves into this competition of incomprehensible importance and, as Dad had said “ We will show those snot nosed bitches not to underestimate Lawrence High School.” So here he was, under the punishment of the coach, 8 more laps to finish, and then he would be free for the night, because Dean Winchester had a party to go to.

Dean got out, his arms shaking slightly from the exhaustion of his 8-lap-sprint, and fished the master key to the pool facilities out of his duffle ( as captain of the swim team, he had these privileges) and quickly locked all the doors to the natatorium and turned off the weak lights and sprinted to the shower. He was gonna be soooo late! He stripped off his cap, goggles and his black, skintight swim shorts that ended 2 inches above the knee on his race to the shower and nearly slipped as he tried to tug it the all the way past his feet and balancing the duffle bag on his shoulder. After a quick shower and then spraying his entire body with deodorant, Dean slipped into his fitted light blue jeans, his favorite Zepplin T-shirt and his leather jacket and ran out the changing rooms. He gave himself an once-over in one of the long, narrow mirrors that were hung on the side of the lockers. He looked good. His hair a bit messy and his eyes slightly red form the pool water that had managed to sneak into his goggles, but there was nothing to be done about it. The world would just have to cope with some chlorine-induced pink-eye. The chicks at this party better be fucking smoking. Or you know, the dudes.

On the way to his car he checked his phone. 3 missed calls from Jo. Shit. One text message. Fuck. Dean knew that the pixels of the ‘unread message’ sign could not convey disapproval, but right now they certainly seemed to.  
/‘You were supposed to help me set up , douchebag‘/ The text read. Well, it could have been worse Dean thought as he punched in his reply : /‘so sorry, coach made me do extra laps. Will make it up to you somehow’/. The parking lot was deserted, only with Deans Impala standing in proud solitude in the far back, gleaming in the setting sun.  
“Hello there, sexy” He greeted her and got in the front seat and threw his duffle over his shoulder. The minute he put the key in the ignition the stereo started busting Bon Jovis Living on a Prayer and Dean sang along loudly as he pulled out of the parking lot and sped to Jo's house.  
The party was already in full swing when he got there, loud, and not to mention bad pop-music blasting through the walls and windows of the large house, and laughter and voices drifting over from the big back yard. He parked a little way off and ran to the front door-no, not ran, jogged. Dean Winchester was not scared of his friends reaction to his lateness. Not at all. Nope. Just dreading it. He rang the doorbell and was let in by some kid that did not seem to know his location, not to mention Deans name, and was clutching a red solo cup in his hand.

The hallway was crowded with bodies swaying to the rhythm of the heavy bass and trying to have shouted conversations. He made his way along it and then through the throng in the living room and out the veranda doors to the garden with a few nods and ‘hey’s every now and then for his class and fellow team mates. He found Jo out in the garden, where he had known she would be, talking amiably to a group of people and laughing at whatever one of them had just said. He approached her from the back and tugged gently at one strand of her hair. She whirled around and smiled hugely before remembering she was supposed to be angry at him. The beer in her hand seemed to have made her more amiable and forgiving. Dean would take it as a divine sign that the whole world was not against him this evening.  
“There you are, asshole!” she said loudly, not having to shout out on the lawn where the music was quieter.  
“you look great, Jo” he told her, and it was true. His friend was wearing tight black pants with horizontal golden zippers on her slim hips and a light blue blouse with the first 2 buttons undone and silver eye shadow. He leaned forward to kiss her on the cheek and pulled out her present (expertly rapped by his mom) from his jacket pocket. “Happy Birthday”

She smiled and took the flat, rectangular package from him and unwrapped it eagerly. She huffed a laugh and rolled her eyes at him:  
“Best of Queen ? Seriously, Dean? When will you stop trying to get me into your crappy old music?”

“Hey, don’t diss my tunes. I’m not dissing the shit playing at this party, after all.”He said solemnly and somewhat graciously, he thought. “ Anyway, I highlighted the best songs on this album and you better fucking listen to it” 

“Of course, sweety” she replied, and that was when he knew she was drunk. Jo only ever used the word ‘sweety’ when she had had one to many beers. And that girl could hold her liquor. Ever since they’d discovered the joys of alcohol at around 14, she had been the only one that could drink him under the table.

“Jo, you alright?” He asked, a little concerned, but that was when he saw them “ Awh hell, Jo, the football team? Really? Really Jo?”

“Some of them happen to be my friends, and you know how it is, invite one, and they all come. And you will be polite!” she scolded him and the whirled around to face her friends again. It wasn’t that he had a problem with the football team exactly it was more like he had a problem with their attitude and their outright douchy-ness, especially when they moved in packs. And he did not want to have to break up some petty fight at his best friend’s birthday party, just because those bitches had decided they needed to play alpha-male again. After all, this was a swimmers party; Jo herself was the schools best synchronized swimming soloist, and it showed in her lean and powerful body. Naturally she had invited most of the people even remotely associated with pool water in their relatively small home town. 

But this was a party, and if Dean Winchester knew one thing, it was how to have a good time. So he headed for the bar, or rather, where the beer casks had been accumulated and started scanning the crowd for his friends and some busty girl to chat up. Or you know, guy.

 

~.~..~.~

 

Castiel sat alone on the small bed among a mass of coats. This party had not gone the way he wanted it to. Jo, the hostess, was one of the first people he had met since moving here. It had been a coincidence, really. He had seen the girl fall in the parking lot on his second day of school. He had run over to see her trying to get up without help, clawing at the flat surface of the car. He had hurried toward her and grabbed her gently by the elbow, pulled her up. She had fought him all the way of course, telling him ‘she was fucking fine’ but he just moved her so she was leaning against the car. He wasn't quiet sure what to say next, but the girl had been looking at his expectantly so he had deadpanned and said :” Hi, I’m Castiel… I’m new” followed by a silent /holy shit Castiel well done 10/10 for flawless human interaction you dork/

“Jo” she had answered simply. Some more silence had followed. “Thanks for helping me up.”

“I can do more than that” Castiel had said with a smile, then realizing what that must have sounded like by the look Jo had given him “Oh no, I don’t mean that, Jesus, I was a school medic at my old school and I could help you with your ankle” He had hastened to explain, a blush creeping up his cheeks. But Jo had just laughed and told him she would be fine. “ Are you sure?”, he’d asked, but she had just pushed herself off the hood and taken a step toward the drivers seat , then winced when applying pressure to her left foot. Castiel had just raised an eyebrow at her. 

“Alright fine!” She’d groaned and promptly sat back down on the hood. Castiel had knelt down infront of her and taken her left foot in his hand.

“Have I know you long enough to tell you ‘I told you so’?” He’d asked tentatively in an attempt to make her feel better, and she’d huffed a laugh. “Tell me when it hurts and where.” He’d instructed her. 

After bandaging her ankle with a first aid kid from her front seat, they had made idle conversation and he’d found out that she was synchronized swimmer and apparently facing the death penalty back home for injuring herself before the big interstate competition. Synchronized swimming, that is. She’d asked him where he’s from and why he’d moved, and he’d told her, Nebraska, cause of his dads job. He found that he quite like this girl, it wasn’t hard to talk to her when he was in his element, concentrating on the bandage rather than what he was saying. 

“So how do you like Kansas so far?”

“It’s okay, a little warmer then what I’m used to, but the schools okay I guess.” And then, before he could stop himself “Same Assholes everywhere”. He’d been on the brink of an apology, mentally berating himself for not keeping his fucking mouth shut, but Jo had just grinned at him from above.

“Tell me about it. You move around a lot, do ya?”

He’d just nodded, not wanting to embarrass himself further.

“Okay, all done” He’d told her and she’d gotten up from the hood tentatively and limped toward the driver’s seat.

“Thanks, Castiel, really.” She’d said with a smile that he returned. “Hey, I’m having a party on Friday, would you like to come? I figure you don’t know that many people yet, and where better to meet them than at a party, ey?”

He’d hesitated, parties weren’t really his thing, but she was friendly and he didn’t want to decline her offer. Besides, no one here knew he was a loser yet, so why not make some friends before they all decided he was an awkward weirdo.

“Uhm, yeah. I’d love to come” He returned her smile “Oh and thanks for the offer!”

She’d scribbled down her address on his palm and driven off. 

 

So that Friday, he had put on is best jeans and a dark blue shirt that his sister Anna had bought him that apparently “accented his eyes” and driven to her house on his old blue bicycle. It had been loud and crowded, but Jo had seemed happy to see him, she had greeted him in the hallways at school the whole week. After that, he’d made conversation with some of his classmates that already seemed quite drunk and were suddenly rather interested in him, now that he’d showed up at a popular girl’s party. All in all, it wasn’t that bad, and he was actually starting to like some of the people there, when it had happened. After his second beer an exceptionally small girl had bumped into him whilst he was crossing the dance floor, causing both their beers to spill over the front of her shirt.

“Oh fuck, I am so sorry-“

“No, no, its my fault, don’t worry about it-“

“No really-“ He’d picked up a napkin from a nearby table and offered it to her, but this giant guy in a football jersey had suddenly stepped between them and fixed Castiel with a blurry, petulantly angry look, that could only be emitted from someone who wanted to start a drunk fight.

“What, you wanna cop a feel with that, faggot? That’s my girlfriend, ya’know.”

“What? No, are you kidding me?” Castiel had replied, backing away. The guy’s girlfriend had tried to explain and push past him, but he’d just shoved her back.

“Don’t worry baby, I got this. You wanna fight, faggot?”

“Why are you calling me a faggot, why would a faggot try to grope you girlfriend?” He’d asked, not knowing if it was the beer talking or just the filter from his brain to his mouth thinning. Not really caring, either. He couldn't help but smile in satisfaction at the color creeping up the boy's thick neck.

“Oh you’re getting smart now, pretty boy? What if I punch that attitude off you face?”

“Oh pretty boy, really? who’s the faggot now?” A circle had formed around them; all standing back, but about three equally huge guys with the same impending-violence-look had materialized next to the first one at Castiel’s words. Apparently, questioning someone’s heterosexuality was a great offense to these douchebags. The first guy, realizing he had backup now, narrowed his eyes at Castiel and swung his fist at him. Castiel just took one small step back so that the fist flew right past his face, then caught it out of the air, using its momentum to step forward and force the guys arm behind his back. He grunted in pain, but Castiel only held him there for about a second, before pushing him into his friends, all of them falling to the floor at the sudden impact. He turned and stepped into the crowd, fleeing them. Castiel knew how to fight, and he was quiet good at it, but he couldn't win a fight against four belligerent football players.

Thankfully, the crowd closed around him, concealing him from view as the four disentangled themselves. So Castiel had grabbed another beer off the counter and fled up a flight of stairs to his left and into a small Bedroom, Jo’s, he’d assumed. He felt annoyed that these assholes had decided they needed to make a fucking scene, and uncomfortable to be in the room of a girl he barely knew, without her permission. He’d sighed and opened his beer, sliding down onto the bed and deciding that he’d wait for about an hour, judging that they’d be drunk enough not to remember him by then. Great, fucking great. Just his luck.

 

~.~..~.~

 

Dean had been having a good time. Really, he was. With one beer in hand, talking and laughing with his friends and chatting up some hot chick from the next town over, he’d felt right at home. They’d stayed out in the garden, the air a comfortable sort of cool. But after about 10:30, the beer bottles had started piling around their ankles and everyone had been getting to drunk for a proper conversation. Not that Dean minded drunkenness, hell no, but it was different when he was the only sober one around (he’d had to drive, after all) and everybody was laughing at bad jokes or staring off into space. After a while he’d gotten up, telling the girl, Julie, he thought her name was, he’d be right back. Dean was starving, not having eaten a thing after practice. So he went over to the bar, where a few different flavoured of chips in multi colored bags sat. The awful pop-music was louder here. He had only just forced 2 hands full of cheesy goodness into his mouth when Jo called to him from across the room. She crooked a finger at him and he pushed his way through the crowd towards her, his hand deep in the bag. 

“What?” He said, around a mouthful of chips.

“Could you do me a favor and get the vodka from my room? Oh don’t give me that look, Winchester, just ‘cause you can’t get drunk doesn't mean we can’t. It’s for the punch, anyway, we’re all out.”

He just continued chewing loudly staring at her expectantly. 

“Oh come one, please? You’re the only one who knows where it is”

He grinned down at her then reached up ruffled her hair with his orange tinted hand. She swatted it away and stuck out her tongue at him. He laughed

“Yeah, sure. You just have such terrible manners when you’re drunk”

He turned on his heels to march up the stairs to Jo’s room, emerging from the crowd of drunken dancers and music. The house was as familiar to him as his own. He’d spend quiet a lot of his childhood there, because his dad and Jo’s were best friends on the bases of mutually hating the Red Socks and being water sport enthusiasts, frequently ranting about how underrated they were when under the influence of alcohol. He turned the doorknob wanting to step into the room, but stopped in the doorway when he saw a figure sitting on the bed. It looked up at him with confusion.

“Hi”

“Hello” came a surprisingly deep voice from the bed, pleasantly gravely 

Dean stepped into the room and flicked on the ceiling lamp, to see the guy actually hiss at the sudden light. He raised his head to meet Dean’s eyes then. He had tousled raven hair, pale skin, full lips ( not that Dean had noticed them, or anything), a straight nose and startlingly blue eyes. He cocked his head to the side, regarding Dean with a quizzical and intense look. Dean walked across the room to the bedside table, pulling out the bottom drawer and lifting the false bottom, but was stopped by a firm hand on his shoulder.

“Does Jo know you’re in here?” The boy asked him. Dean looked at him over his shoulder, and saw the boy looking at him seriously. He huffed at him, but the fact that this guy was trying to stop a someone from going through Jo’s drawers earned him a few points.

“Yeah, ‘course she does. She send me up here. Does she know /you’re/ up here?”

“Oh shit, no, she doesn’t!” His eyes went wide and he jumped up, swayed, then took a small step to steady himself. “I was just trying to avoid some asshole football players that wanted to pick a fight” 

“Dude, relax!” Dean laughed, finding this guy’s earnestness oddly endearing. He tugged him down by the arm that was attached to the hand on his shoulder and he sat back down. He plopped the bag of chips into his lap and turned back to the drawer  
“I’m Dean, by the way, Dean Winchester.”

“ Dean Winchester” he repeated, as though he was trying out the taste of the name on his tongue. “I am Castiel Novak”

He fished out the small, flat Vodka bottle and closed the drawer. Walking back across the room he pulled the door open and Castiel tsked behind him.

“This music fucking blows”

Dean grinned and looked over his shoulder :”Tell me about it”

He went back down the stairs, emerging himself once more into the crowd. He found Jo and handed over the bottle and felt a tap on his shoulder. It was Castiel, looking up at him with his wide blue eyes, somewhat tipsy and confused.

“You forgot your chi-“ he started to say but was interrupted by a loud cry of “THERE HE IS” from across the room. Dean looked up and saw a maybe six members of the football team marching toward him. No, not towards him, towards Castiel. Dean glanced down at the shorter boy, who rolled his eyes and pushed the bag of chips into Dean’s hands. He /rolled/ his fucking /eyes/. 

“Look assholes,” He began turning toward Rufus, the gigantic quarterback of the Lawrence high football team. “ I did not try to grope your girlfriend so will you please get out of my fu-“ he was stopped by a fist connecting with his jaw. The people around them gasped and Castiel’s head snapped back. He recovered quickly, punching the much taller guy in the gut then pushing him into the crowd with a kick to the ribs. Before Dean had time to react, Castiel had turned on his heal and swayed off through the crowd, his drunkenness more apparent now. Behind Dean, Jo whistled softly: 

“That boy has got fight in him” 

“Uhu” Dean managed weakly

“Oh shit” Jo said pressing the heels of her hands to her eyes. “That crazy kid came here on his bicycle. Dean, could you-?”

But Dean was already off, intrigued by this boy that had fought with such ease and seemed so open in Jo’s room. Plus, he wasn’t about to let the kid get himself killed, trying to drive drunk. He pushed through the undulating bodies, following Castiel outside.


	2. Sealed with a Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get more intimate between Dean and Cas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so here is chapter two. i'm pretty proud of the kiss-scene. Bare with me, its gonna get more heated soon!

It was pitch black, the only light ghostly shadows from the houses and streetlamps. He found Castiel trying to unchain a tattered old bicycle from a lamp post, staring at the lock in concentration and muttering to himself. 

“Oi!” Dean called out to him and the boy raised his head, looking at him with guarded eyes. But his face relaxed when he recognized him.

“Hi, Dean Winchester” he said, a slow smile spreading across his face, then wincing as the motion forced his split lip further apart. He wiped his mouth. “Shit,” he muttered.

“Here” Dean said offering him a slightly used tissue which Castiel accepted with a grateful look.

He leaned back down to fiddle with the lock, then glanced back up after a few seconds, looking at Dean as though he was surprised that he was still there. He raised his dark eyebrows in a silent “can I help you?”

“I’m not about to let you drive, or, uhm, cycle home. Your drunk.” He pointed out. Castiel gave him that same considering look, with his head tilted to the side, as though he couldn’t quite figure it Dean out.

“I happen to be an excellent drunk cyclist, as a matter of fact.” 

“And I’m not doubting that” Dean replied with a grin. He liked this boy’s odd demeanor. “But it would be a shame to take the risk and let the guy who fought off the biggest asshole at our school with a punch and a kick. That was very Bruce Lee back there.”

Castiel stopped fumbling with the key and walked toward him with a guarded expression.

“Are you offering me a ride home?” The boy asked with his gravely voice.

“Finally he gets it,” Dean said in mock exasperation “Come on genius, we haven’t got all night” They started toward his car in silence, Castiel swaying every now and then bumping shoulders with Dean.

Castiel got in the front seat looking down at his hands as Dean put the key in the ignition. Both of them jumped at the sudden blast of music, then Castiel giggled. And odd sound, when produced with such a deep voice.

“This is AC/DC, right?” He asked tentatively.

Dean nodded and pulled out of his parking spot and started off down the street.

“So where do you live?” he said glancing at the other from the corner of his eye. Castiel had an odd look on his face, as though he was counting something, and Dean was about to ask what was the matter, but then he started loudly singing along to ‘You shook me all night long’.

Deans face split into a grin, and he joined the song at the chorus. As the singers voice went higher, so did theirs, until both of them were nearly shrieking the lyrics. They collapsed into their seats with laughter and Castiel looked over at Dean with a silly smile on his face, his eyes blazing brightly, illuminated in spurts by the light from the streetlamps. /Fuck, they’re blue./ 

Dean had to force himself to look at the road. It was then that they passed a bright neon sign that proclaimed the ‘Cook County Dinner’ was 100 meters down the next exit. Dean looked at it longingly, still ridiculously hungry. He glanced over at Castiel, who was swaying back and forth in his seat and humming nonsense. Deciding on the spot, he pulled into the narrow road and up the house-lined street. When they stopped in front of the small, cozy looking diner, Castiel got out of the car as though this was exactly the destination he had expected. Dean waited a few seconds, and sure enough:

“Dean, I don’t live here.” The boy had ducked his head and looked at him through the drivers window with wide eyes and a concerned expression on his face. His eyes narrowed: ”Are you trying to kidnap me?”

Dean grinned up at him and got out of the Impala, locking the door behind him.

“Yes” he answered the other boy’s question, then took him by the elbow and towed him toward the little diner. Castiel went with him with surprising willingness, not saying a word, just trotting along next to him. /Now let’s find out some more about you, blue eyes/, Dean thought to himself, as he pushed open the door to the diner and was greeted by the familiar smell of something being fried in hot, greasy oil until it was so unhealthy that most people who did not have the skills of one Dean Winchester shied away from it.

 

~.~..~.~

 

Dean plopped him down into a booth, then slid in across from him and held up a lean, muscular arm to get the waitresses attention.  
“A bacon burger and two plates of fries, please, sweetheart!” he called out to her. Then he turned to Castiel: “Sorry Cas, but I am fucking famished over here. I haven’t had anything since practice!” 

Cas. That was new. No one had ever called him ‘Cas’ before. He decided that he liked it, coming from this green-eyed boy’s mouth.

“Swimming” Castiel stated. Dean gave him an odd look and then a pout that said ‘not bad’.

“Yeah actually, how’d ya know?”

“Shoulders.”

“Shoulders?”

“Yes.” Dean eyebrows were stilled raised, so obviously he needed to explain further. Only when he opened his mouth again had he realized what he’d been about to say./Shit/. He closed his mouth again. 

Dean was looking at him expectantly, green eyes inquisitive./ How does one say this without coming off like some perverted gay predator?/ He opened his mouth again. “Well, you see, all swimmers have these crazy wide-uhm-well muscled shoulders. Like-uhm-,” He licked his lips and looked down.”Like yours” he finished lamely.

Dean gave a low whistle, but thankfully, his reply was short-cut when the waitress, who thrust a plate of steaming fries down in front of him. Only then did he realize how fucking hungry he was. He grabbed a broad, golden wedge and shoved it into his mouth. He couldn't help an obscene little noise escape him at the taste. He looked up then, to see Dean staring at him, the burger halfway to his lips, seemingly forgotten. There was an odd look in his eyes Castiel couldn't quite name. Could it be desire? No. That was just wishful thinking mixed with booze on his part.

“These are the best fries I have ever had,” he whispered earnestly. Dean huffed a laugh at Castiel’s statement and took a big bite out of his rediscovered food.  
“So whaft’s yourh sforry?” He asked around a mouth full of burger. 

“I don’t have a story. I’m really boring, actually” Castiel replied. It was the truth. His life had been going from one school to another for about his whole life, drifting in and out of relevance for the people there and all his experiences not amounting to anything he could call his ‘story’. 

“Oh-kay,” Dean replied slowly. He swallowed and Castiel watched his adam’s apple move beneath tanned skin. /Damn/. “Eat your fries and tell me when you've sobered up some, chuckles.”

And Castiel did, smiling down at his plate and picking up some more fries. They lapsed into a comfortable silence, sharing looks every now and then. Castiel had to fight the urge to stare openly. The boy in front of his was so ridiculously attractive. Tall, with short, light brown hair, a strong jaw, a heart shaped mouth and eyes rimmed with black lashes a color so intense he lacked things that were green enough to compare them to. Not to mention the way his arms moved underneath that faded old t-shirt and the head of his collarbones that it revealed.

After a while, he felt the artery clogging, greasy food, dim the buzz in his head and clear it a bit. 

“I just moved here, from Nebraska. I lived there for about 6 months. We move around quit a lot, you see, my father works in this giant firm that does nothing except trying to sell things no-one needs to people too dumb to realize how useless their products are.” He found himself gesticulating wildly through the air with a potato wedge. “ He, that is, my father, happens to be the best at selling bullshit, so he is wanted in a lot of places. So yeah.”

Dean looked at him with the corners of his mouth wrinkled into a small smile at Castiel’s little speech.

“Must be nice” he said, with an oddly melancholy smile, “Moving around so much. Getting to know different places and people. I've only ever lived in this tiny-ass town.”

“Must be nice” Castiel replied, smiling too, “Having childhood friends and knowing you’re neighbors and having a family home.”

They lapsed back into silence again for a while, Cas finishing his fries and Dean munching at his burger.

“So how’d you get the footballers all hot and bothered?” Dean asked playfully. Cas sighed.

“I spilled some beer on that big guy’s girlfriend. I mean the big guy that punched me. Not the other big guy- guys. “ He explained. Then for good measure, added “I could have taken him you know, but he just kept, like, multiplying. Anyway, he called me a faggot and tried to punch me. I pushed him into his clones and went up to Jo’s room.”

“Ooh, faggot, how original,” Dean responded with an amused tone in his voice. “Listen, don’t let it get to ya, the football team’s added IQ is lower than that of a dead slug.” He gave Castiel a reassuring smile. 

“It didn't ‘get’ to me. I just didn't see what the fact that I’m gay had to do with anything.” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. Talking to Dean came so easily, he hadn't really thought about what he was saying. There was something about this boy that made him want to relax in his presence, yet at the same time demanded all his attention. Anyway, it was out now, and Castiel didn't really regret saying it. Best for him to know now. He /had/ been openly gay for about 4 years now and he wasn’t about to start concerning himself with other people’s opinions now. Even if he would very much like it if this boy didn't treat him any differently. Well, maybe a /little/ differently, but that was too much to hope for. Dean didn’t seem very fazed though. He had just blinked in surprise and then went right on talking:

“Anyway dude, Like I said, they’re assholes.” Then, looking at his watch and their empty plates: “ready to go?”

Castiel nodded his assent, and they got up. Only then did it acure to him that he didn't have any money on him. 

“Dean, I-“

“Don’t worry about it, my treat” the other boy said with a smile and a wink, throwing some money down on the table top he had pulled from his back pocket. Castiel blushed and looked down. 

“Thanks you,” he murmured.

He told Dean his address and Dean informed him that it was just ten minutes away from where he lived. The ride in the car was quiet then, and Castiel was tired. It was comfortable sort of silence, one that just didn't need filling. Then Dean started humming, the sound soft and deep from the back of his throat, and Castiel thought that if there was a sweeter sound, he could think of none. He felt his eyelids slide shut in the dim light with Dean’s voice to lull him. All too soon, the journey ended, and Cas felt an odd loss at the thought of leaving Deans presence, as though he was leaving something behind he didn’t know he had in the first place. 

They stopped in front of the little blue house he they now lived in, Castiel couldn’t quite bring himself to call it ‘home’ yet. It wasn’t as though he felt unwelcome; it was more like feeling /cold/. A cold that came more from the absence of warmth than anything else. He turned to look at Dean, who was gazing at him with a peculiar expression. The moonlight made it seems as though a fog was lying across his face and only his eyes could pierce through.

“Thank you Dean. Really, thanks,” Castiel started, and he wanted to say something more, but he didn’t quite know himself what it was that he wanted to say. It was just that gratitude wasn’t the only thing he was feeling. /Thank you for humming, it was the most perfect sound I have ever heard? It’s really fantastic that you called me ‘Cas’? I think your eyes might be the most beautiful thing I have ever seen?/ No, that didn't seem like a good way to go.

So he just gave him a smile that he hoped conveyed nothing of what he had just thought and got out of the car.

“Goodnight Cas,” came Dean’s musical voice from behind him, and Castiel couldn’t help but grin.

 

~.~..~.~

 

The bell finally gave its loud, penetrating cry at the end of an extraordinarily slow-passing Monday and Castiel was first to bolt out of his chair and out through the door of the classroom. Even though his sprint had gained him a head start, the crowd started filling in around him, slowing his pace. 

The Hallways of this school were disappointingly similar to those of the other school he had visited, all yellow walls, grey plastic floors and green lockers. He had spotted Dean’s car at the far end of the parking lot that morning, and parked his bike (he’d picked it up from Jo’s on Sunday) in its proximity, in case he chickened out and decided he needed an excuse to walk past it. 

It wasn’t really that he didn’t want to do this, because he really did, it was more that he dreaded the reaction it might gain him. He saw Dean from across the parking lot, talking to two of his friends and laughing loudly. He was coming out of the south exit, whilst Cas was leaving through the northern one, so they were both about and equal distance from the Impala. 

Castiel quickened his pace, wiping his suddenly sweaty palms on his pants. Why was he sweating? He had planned what he wanted to say, gone over it the whole weekend actually and come up with aloof responses for all scenarios he could think of. When they were a few meters away, Dean saw Cas and a wide grin plastered itself across his face. Suddenly all his careful planning of this moment seemed wiped away.

“Yo, Cas, hi man! I didn't see you in school today, I was looking for you!” Dean exclaimed and walked over to pat Cas on the shoulder. He was wearing Dark Jeans and a long sleeved green t-shirt that clung nicely to his body and made his impossible eyes seem even greener.

“Yeah, I was in the-uhm- the library, actually.” Castiel said, his voice sounding a little off to his own ears. Dean huffed out a laugh.

“Alright, Hermione, come find me tomorrow then, I wanna introduce you to the guys.” He took one of the straps of his bag off his shoulder and slung the bag around to rummage for his keys. It was now or never. /Come oooon, Castiel!/

“Hey,-uhm-, Dean, listen, do you have anything planned today?” Castiel inquired, trying not to sound too shy or too eager. Dean looked up from his bag and let drop to his side.

“Nah, I’ve got nothing on. Don’t have practice Mondays. Why you asking?”

“Well, I still owe you for taking me home Friday, and for the fries. Maybe we could get some pie or something?” There. He had said it. It was out.

“Oh Cas, you don’t have to do that! You don’t owe me anything, I said it was my treat!”

“But I want to!” Castiel blurted out and felt heat creeping up his neck. This boy made him blush more than he had blushed in the last decade. Dean cocked his head to the side and smiled slowly.

“Alrighty then. No decent man is gonna turn down an offer to some pie. Let’s go.”

So they set off at an easy pace down the street crawling with kids on bikes and cars pulling out of the parking lot. Now that Castiel’s initial worries were over, he felt himself relax into Dean’s presence and their easy conversation. They talked about this and that, and Castiel was happy to see that Dean was acting the same way he had on Friday, that the Dean he had met was not just a charitable moment on Dean’s side mixed with Castiel’s drunken fantasy of a beautiful boy who had driven him home.

“OH, fuck me!”Dean exclaimed a few minutes later, when they were in a little café with a big slice of pie in front of each of them, Dean’s topped with whipped cream and a scoop of ice cream on the plate next to it. “I forgot how much I love pie,” he murmured around his mouthful “I never have time to just go and get PIE what with swimming and schoolwork.”

“It is really good, though,” Castiel agreed, his smile equal part for the flavor and for Dean’s childish happiness. 

“What flavor did you get?” Dean asked, But didn’t wait for an answer. Instead, he reached across the table, fork in hand, and gathered some of the confection onto it. He should have been annoyed, but the thought of sharing pie with Dean pleased him more than it should.”Raspberry, huh? I like it. I thought you were more a blueberries kinda guy”

“What does that even mean?” Castiel asked, confused and amused at the same time. He didn’t get an answer, though. Dean just wiped some custard and cream off his bottom lip with his thumb.

“You see, I think people should have a lives like this; you get up late, have breakfast, then maybe second breakfast. And defiantly, like, fucking tea or coffee in the afternoon, with like, a nice slab of pie. Not this bullshit, where you get up in the morning only to run to school, and then you run to practice and you have a bite in between and after, you’re too exhausted to do anything. I mean, what kind of life is that, anyway?” 

He had looked at Castiel intently all through his little rant, as though sharing a secret. Only now did he seem to realize what he had said and dropped his eyes to the table. A blush crept up his neck, barely visible under his tanned skin. But Castiel understood him completely; all they ever seemed to do was rush from one point to another in life. Dean glanced back up at Castiel then, an uncertain look in his eyes. Whatever he found on Castiel’s face seemed to soothe him though.

“All I’m saying is that Hobbits have the life, man!” he smiled.

“You know, I have never actually seen the Lord of the Rings,” Castiel said pensively, then jumped at Dean’s exclaim.

“Duuuuuude!” he said loudly giving him an incredulous stare. “Are you shitting me right now? You have never seen the Lord of the Rings? You have not lived, good sir! Have you got anything on for today, any homework?”

“No, but there’s this paper that’s due-“

“Whatever it is, it doesn’t matter until you’ve seen the Fellowship /at least/!”

“I can’t believe you’re this exited, it’s just a movie,” Cas laughed at him, but Dean just scoffed.

“Just a movie, he says! It is a lifestyle! There is so much you must learn, young padawan,” he replied 

“You see, there is a reference I do get. And don’t ‘ young padawan’ me, I’m four months older than you!”

Dean just smiled: “Finish your pie and we’re going to my house.”

 

~.~..~.~

 

And like that they were back at Dean’s house, with Cas looking at everything with a happy gleam in his eyes. Dean had lived in this house all his life, and he didn't see why Cas found everything so interesting. It was all a little worn, if well taken care of by his mom. Cas had been very polite to her, shaking her hand an telling her she had a lovely home, and thank you so much for having him.

“Smooth, “ Dean had whispered in his ear then, grabbed his arm and towed him up the stairs, armed with a very well worn DVD of ‘the fellowship of the ring’ and a bag of chips. Cas seemed fascinated by his room, trying not to stare at the long shelf with all of Dean’s swimming medals and trophies that had accumulated over the years. His room was small, it’s walls painted blue, but it had a large window facing south that bathed it in light all day long. There was a desk in front of it, papers and books strewn across it and a large bed in the corner. Opposite the ded, atop a full bookcase was a big, rectangular TV. It was Dean’s pride and joy, second only to the Impala. He had worked his ass off all of last summer to buy it. "You like?" He asked him

“Yes, its, its warm." He said, but even though the words were appropriate, they seemed to have a special meaning to him "and it’s cleaner than I expected,” Cas said after a while, having thoroughly examined his bookshelf. Dean just threw a pillow at him. “I don’t know how you managed to put that TV up there, but I’m pretty sure it’s physically impossible to balance it there.”

Dean set everything up then sat down on the bed, remote control in hand. Cas just stood there awkwardly, blushing, as if not knowing what to do with himself. 

“Relax, dude, I won’t try to touch your boobs,” Dean said with a laugh, then pulled Castiel onto the bed next to him. He arranged his long limbs awkwardly, finally settling next to Dean with crossed legs. It was nice to have this odd boy on his bed next to him and he couldn’t help but sneak glances at him as the movie started. If he had doubted his attraction to this guy before, seeing his face still slightly red form his earlier blush and his azure eyes staring intently at the screen, there was no doubt that he was just about the most fascinating thing he had ever laid eyes on. It wasn't that he was handsome, /exactly/,though he was, it was just that Dean just didn’t get tired of looking at him.

From this angle, his face looked smooth and soft, his cheeks managing to look rounded whilst his jaw line was still firm, clearly defined. He had the urge to reach out and stroke it with his fingers. 

Castiel’s response to the movie was satisfactory. He’d exclaimed at the right moments, and whispered ‘epic’ and ‘awesome’ every now and then, by the end even humming along to the theme. 

“Just a movie, ey?” he teased. 

“I stand corrected. So, so cool. When can we watch the next part?” He inquired eagerly, turning around to face Dean. His face was alight with childish excitement. 

“whow, easy there, grasshopper. I’ve got practice tomorrow and Wednesday,” he replied. Cases face fell slightly at that, and Dean hated himself for making it so. “But Thursdays good with me, if you wanna,” he said quickly.”God, I haven’t seen this movie in /ages/,” he sighed. “Just haven’t had the time, I guess.”

Cas cocked his head to the side and looked at him with his odd, intense stare:“There seem to be a lot of things you haven’t had time for,” he sated

Before Dean could reply, there was the sound of the front door opening and closing. His mom had gone to work about an hour ago, so it could only be Sammy. Then he remembered. /OH/. He grinned at Cas:

“My little brother just got back from his first date,” he said excitedly. “Come on!” without really thinking about it, he grabbed Castiel’s hand in his own and ran down the stairs with him. 

Sam was in the hallway, toeing off his sneakers and grinning from ear to ear. /The little bitch/, he thought fondly. At 15, the kid was almost taller than he was and now coming home from his first date. It warmed his fucking heart.

“And?” Dean asked, stepping forward. Sam started slightly at his approach. 

“It went-uhm, it went well,” he said, still grinning. Then he looked over at Castiel and down at their still joined hands. He raised his eyebrows: “And how did /your/ date go?” he asked jokingly. 

“Very well, thank you,” Dean said, not about to make Sammy get the upper hand. He let go of Cas, though, but feeling an odd loss after. “This is Cas, he’s new in town. Cas, this is my brother Sammy” he introduced quickly. They shook hands with Sammy throwing a quick ‘just Sam’ in. 

“Come on, dude, spill! Did ya kiss her?” Dean asked eagerly. The smile on Sammy’s face spoke volumes. “That’s my boy!” he exclaimed and patted him on the shoulder vigorously. He turned to Cas who had an amused expression on his face. He threw his arm over his brother’s shoulder and pulled him firmly into his side:”You see, Sammy over here finally grew a pair and asked the girl has had a crush on for about 3 years out. Not only that, but he has also had his first kiss. Hallelujah to that!”

“Dude, it was my first date, not yours,” Sam said, a little annoyed, disentangling himself from his brother. 

“What’s her name?” Castiel asked and he was grinning now, too.

“Jessica,” He said to him, and just saying it made him smile all over again.

“Okay, Romeo, go upstairs and clean your room, or mom is gonna have a fit again. And it’s past your curfew, anyway.” Dean told him.

Sammy just rolled his eyes at him and gave him his best bitch face, then murmured a quick goodbye at Cas and trudged up the stairs.  
“Oh, Sammy, do you wanna have the talk now, or after your third date?” He shouted after his brother.

“Jerk!” was the only response he got.

“Bitch!”, Then, to Cas : “Come on, I’ll walk you home. It’s only like 10 minutes if you know the way.”

 

~.~..~.~

 

It was odd, how comfortable they were with each other after having only spent such a short amount of time with together. Castiel wasn’t awkward anymore, talking freely of his past and his peers, even bumping shoulders with Dean occasionally as they walked down dark streets. After a long stretch of silence, Dean thought /fuck it/ and asked:

“So how did your first date go, like, your first date ever?” he asked tentatively. He didn’t have any friends that were gay or bi, so he didn’t really know how to start this conversation. He was sure homosexual couples went on dates just like any others, but maybe Cas didn’t wanna talk about it with him, or was just uncomfortable talking about it at all. Neither seemed to be the case.

“It was with this girl, Sophia, her name was, I think, or Sophie. I was 13, I think. Anyway, we went to see a movie and it was so awkward I think even the people in the next row over felt it. Yeah. Nothing special. I’m pretty sure that was the moment I knew I was not into girls, though.” Cas didn’t seem to mind stating his sexuality, and Dean found that he liked that about him. This boy was one of the rare people he had met that seemed completely honest. Cas licked his lips and looked up at Dean. “You?” he asked. 

“I went out with this chick, Lisa, in 7th, and she was pretty cool. Hot, too, in a 13 year old sort of way. We went to the park, I think, and I bought her Ice cream. She was my first kiss, too.” He liked to think back to that time, a simpler time. They were almost at Castiel’s house now, it was already looming in the distance. Dean found that he really wouldn’t mind if the way stretched on for a few more minutes.”If you didn’t have your first kiss then, when did you?” He asked. 

Castiel’s step faltered for a split second, and Dean glanced down at the shorter boy, only to see him blush deep red again.

“I’ve never been kissed,” he admitted finally.

“What, really?” Dean exclaimed, then mentally kicked himself. He hadn't meant for it to sound like that! 

“Well Dean, when you’re the openly-gay –since-age -14 new kid and live in such exiting places like Elgin, Nebraska, you’re not exactly gonna have people lining up.” He didn’t really sound annoyed, just a little hurt.

Dean stopped dead, deciding then and there that he could not let this gorgeous creature walk around any longer without knowing what it was like to kiss. The thought of someone else showing him made a really selfish part of him foam at the mouth. They were standing under a streetlamp, the light drawing the shadows of Castiel’s thick eyelashes over his cheeks. 

“You know,” He said stepping closer to Cas, who had stopped as well,” swimmers are the best kissers.” He was standing right in front of him now. Castiel looked into his eyes, and then his gaze darted down to his lips, almost involuntarily.

“And why is that?” he asked his voice a little huskier than it usually was, and that alone was sending a shiver down Dean’s spine. He came a little closer, leaning into Castiel’s personal space and placing one hand on the other boy’s hip.

“Cause we can hold our breath for so long,” He murmured to him. He and Cas were standing flush against each other now, and Castiel’s hands had snaked around his waist. His eyes were huge and filled with longing and anticipation, feelings Dean was sure were showing in his own eyes. Dean moved his free hand up to Castiel’s face and cupped his jaw. They were mere millimeters apart now, and Dean could count every lash on Castiel’s pale lids. His breath brushed against Castiel’s full lips, and he longed to chase it across the short space. 

“Prove it, “Castiel whispered finally, and Dean brought his face down to Castiel’s and brushed their lips together. The other boy’s lips were warm and soft, and he leaned in a little further, making the slight brush a definite kiss now. Cas responded hesitantly, but not as though he didn’t want to, but more because he didn’t know how too. /I can fix that/, Dean thought. He pushed the other boys lips apart with his own, and then, very lightly, let his tongue trace over the others bottom lip. 

The kiss was a gentle affair at first, a soft caress, with their noses bumping slightly. But Castiel was a quick learner and soon the kiss had turned deeper, the two of them pressing closer together, tongue sliding against tongue and their lips making a perfect little noise when they parted for air. Castiel’s breath was sweet, and he could still taste the salty flavor of the chips on his tounge.

He went in again, this time sucking gently on Castiel’s lower lip, then nibbling it. The other boy sighed into his mouth at that and Dean did everything in his might to try and swallow the sound whole. The hand at Castiel’s back was pressing the shorter boy against him insistently, and Castiel responded by teasing his cold fingertips under Dean’s shirt and ghosting over his firm abdomen. Dean gasped at the sensation, and Castiel chuckled against his mouth, an airy sound. They stood like that for what seemed like an eternity, trading kisses back and forth, Castiel growing bolder and exploring every inch of Dean’s mouth, and Dean let him, ‘cause he was a gracious kind of guy and this was the best kiss he had had in a long time. 

Dean had kissed a boy before, it had been last summer after a swimming competition, a boy from the other end of the state who had crowded him against locker and ravaged his mouth. This was better though. That kiss had been all flash and no depth, whilst /this/, this kiss with Cas, had a slow, building heat to it.

When they broke the kiss for good, they stood impossible close for a moment, both of them breathing heavily. Castiel’s mouth was red, kiss-swollen and slick, and the sight made Dean want to do a lot more then kissing to the other boy.

“Well, I think I might have to agree,” Cas finally whispered hoarsely, the words filling the space between them, but not breaking the intimacy.

“Huh?” Dean answered dumbly, having lost track of the conversation.

“Swimmers really are the best kissers,” he answered with a small smile. Then he went up on his toes to kiss him again


End file.
